Imperfections
by TantalumCobolt
Summary: Nobody is perfect, and Clint Barton is no exception. A collection of one-shots with the common theme of them revolving around Clint's 'imperfections'.


**I know I really shouldn't be starting another story as I have chapter 2 of Valuable Lessons to finish and post, but the plot-bunnies were persistent. *sigh* You can never win with them... Right, so here's the first one-shot.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything to do with the Avengers, (except the DVD, but I have a hunch that doesn't count.)**

**{****Word Count – ****698}**

* * *

Clint Barton isn't completely sane. (The nightmares that keep him awake most nights are evidence of that.)

[So why do the psychologists keep clearing him for duty?]

* * *

'-improvement since our last sessions?'

He continues to stare vacantly at a point behind the young woman's head.

"Agent Barton?'

He blinks and his eyes focus again. Absently he notes the hint of concern in the psychologist's large, hazel eyes and has to fight back the anger it provokes. He doesn't want her concern! He doesn't **need**her concern!

_(Why is she concerned anyway? She doesn't really care...)_

'I asked if there has been any improvement since the last time we spoke.'

Clint's brow creases in confusion. _Last time? When was last time?_

There are so many different psychologists Fury keeps sending him to that he's lost track of them. It's gotten to the point that he doesn't even bother learning names anymore, although he remembers their faces _(he can never forget the faces)._ He doesn't recognise the young woman opposite him though, and he's sure he wouldn't have forgotten...

_Doctor something..._

_(You idiot, they're all doctors!)_

The corners of his lips twitch upwards and, for the briefest of moments, his features are lit up by amusement. Then it's gone, replaced by the standard blank mask. Because _it really isn't funny_. _(Why are you smiling?)_

Movement across the table pulls him back into reality. Doctor Walsh _-(Congratulations, you remember her name.)-_ is sliding sheets of paper into folders and carefully placing them in her shoulder bag.

_Where is she going?_

'The half-hour is up. I have another appointment and you're free to return to... whatever you were doing.'

_Must be a mind reader, would explain why she's a psychologist... (Because that's realistic!)_

The doctor has stood up now and is heading for the door. She pauses with her hand on the key pad and turns back to him with a tight smile. 'Thank you for your cooperation, Agent Barton.'

_Sarcastic too, just like the last one..._

He stays seated for several minutes after the door slides shut with a mechanical hiss. An image of the lockbox full of cash in his room flashes through his mind and he wonders if he could bribe her to clear him for active duty. _Nah, it would never work..._

* * *

It's a slow day. She has no appointments, only the paperwork from yesterday's that needs to be filled out. The only activity outside her small, glass-walled office is the occasional journey to the coffee machine undertaken by many of her employees. In fact, everything is rather boring. She allows her head to drop into her hands, just for a seconds.

Of course, it only takes a second. A thump sounds just above her head, followed closely by the crash of the vent grate as it hits the ground beside her desk. Biting back a startled scream she pushes away from the desk and her chair rolls backwards until she hits the wall. A dark clothed figure appears in from of her and pulls her from the chair. She expects many things to happen next including, but not limited to, a bullet being propelled into her skull, but it's nothing like that.

Strong arms twirl her around the room before wrapping around her small frame in a quick, but crushing hug. Then, as suddenly as it begun, it's over. She barely recovers in time to see the man disappear into the vents once more.

'What the hell just happened?'

A chuckle comes from the direction of the door. 'Clint Barton just happened ma'am.'

She turns towards the voice in surprise. Phil Coulson is leaning against the doorframe, studying her intently.

Slightly embarrassed by the scrutiny she clears her throat. 'What there something you needed me for?'

'Why did you clear him for duty?'

'Sorry?'

To her surprise he smiles. 'You don't have to pretend, Doctor Walsh. I know Clint, and I know he's not okay. So I'll ask again, why did you clear him for duty?'

She hesitates, but a quick scan of his face reveals only curiosity. Shrugging slightly she replies, 'It's Clint Barton.'

Instead of the perplexed look she's expecting Coulson gives only a nod and a smile before backing out of the room and heading back down the corridor. For a moment she is stunned, then she realises that he understands.

* * *

**Ideas, inspiration and review are welcomed and loved! Lets say, at least five reviews? If I get that, I'll try my hardest to have the next one-shot up by the end of the week.**

**-TaCo**


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